


i (found you)

by Asmodeus1987



Series: Te Encontré [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Jim, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta!Bruce, Canon Rewrite, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Jim's Blue Balls, M/M, Pheromones, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Slash, Scent Marking, Season/Series 01, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asmodeus1987/pseuds/Asmodeus1987
Summary: From the moment Jim turned to the back of the alley, his destiny was written.





	1. found you

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: 1x01 Pilot.
> 
> Extras: Gotham is ending and my heart is broken. I've decided to finally translate this fic, honoring my love for this show. I don't give a damn if people give me crap for the pairing. Jim/Bruce are my ultimate OTP, no matter the universe. Haters, suck it up.

 

**Prologue.**

**[+] + [+]**

"  _I found you:_

 _A tiny thing between my sheets_  . "

-Oh Land.

**[+] + [+]**

 

* * *

 

 

From the moment Jim turned to the back of the alley, his destiny was written.

It was rare that this happened, that the essence of a Beta could conjured him. Alpha were not prone to explore the unknown, where compatibility issues arised.

Breathing deeply, Jim tasted bitterness. Pain, shock, need.

His protective instincts were activated by just spotting the young boy, out of the corner of his eye.

It occurred in an instant. A gear found its closure, the biological mechanism clicking, filling up the right spaces—And then  _boom_. His inner beast  _awoke_ in a resounding and irremediable way.

Like a moth to the blame, Gordon's boots guided him to the small figure.

This couldn't be happening. Jim already had Barbara, the perfect Omega. To feel connected with another being so incompatible—Jim shaked his head at the notion. It felt natural, however, to walk straight to the staircase.

He asked the kid for his name. He got no answer.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk." The small frame didn't stop shaking.

Jim felt bad for him immediately. That prompted him to offer comfort even if he wasn't very good at it. He turned to Bullock, who was still talking to the officer. He found no help there. Bullock was too busy arguing.

"Bruce."

Jim returned to the kid. Dark eyes raised up from the blanket. "My name is Bruce Wayne."

Damn it. That was a  _very well_  know last name. Jim crouched before the young man immediately.

"Can you tell me what happened, Bruce?"

When the sobs broke the boy, Jim hurried to sit next to him. He couldn't help it, if one of his palms brushed against Bruce's back. An Alpha would always try to fix broken things.

Although confessions weren't easy to extract from Gordon, he ended up talking about his dad. The accident. Something he hadn't talked about in years.

"I was right next to him when he died." Opening up had the desired effect. Bruce turned his face in his direction, attracted by the parallel losses they had in common. "I know how you feel right now. And I promise you, however dark and scary the world might be right now… there will be light." He pressed gently against the cocoon of blankets, knowing courage was about to burst from the young man. He just needed the right push. "There  _will_ be light, Bruce."

A pause.

"We just got out of the movies. We were walking through the alley to catch an uptown cab and a man came out of the shadows… He was tall with a black mask. He had a hat and gloves and shiny shoes. He took my dad's wallet and my mom's necklace… And then he shot them for no reason… I should have done something. But I was too scared."

Jim sighed. No one deserved to witness something like this. "There was nothing you could have done to stop what happened." The kid opened his mouth to argue, Jim beat him to the punch. "But there is something you can do now, Bruce." Jim brought their faces closer, whispering. Wayne matched his body language, following where Jim lead—the Alpha inside purred with approval at the easiness. " _Be_  strong."

Wayne nodded. Jim knew the Beta would never be same again. His core would become steel after tonight. Jim just hoped Wayne didn't get lost behind his own walls. He was  _so damn_ young.

A stupid promise came out of Jim's lips, then. "I promise you, I'll find the man who did this."

Bruce eyed him suspiciously. Jim sensed curiosity manifest through Wayne's pheromones. Weaker than an Omega's, almost insignificant compared to an Alpha mark. Jim felt him anyways. Compatibility pulsed between them—

—Jim let go of the boy, suddenly terrified.

It had to be a mistake. A fucking  _joke_.

Just as the closeness was beginning to affect him, reality decided to slap him.

In a second, Bruce was no longer facing him, but running toward the crowd, his gray blanket falling onto the damp asphalt. Jim watched idly as an unknown man welcomed Bruce into his arms.

The man was another Alpha.

Jim  _growled_.

He approached them in urgent manner. With a bark, Jim indicated his identity.

"Alfred Pennyworth." The other man was also gruff, obvious with his distrust. Between them, Bruce raised his little head, intrigued, and maybe aware of the challenge that was happening. Bruce was smart. Jim had seen it in the brightness of his eyes. Bruce was  _too_  smart.

The temptation to touch the crown of brown hair was powerful. Even so, Jim stopped himself. "We'll find the one responsible for this, Mr. Pennyworth."

Distrust grew to skepticism. "New boy, are you?"

Jim tried not to roll his eyes. "You could say."

Pennyworth continued not being impressed. "Good luck, mate."

And they left. Bruce didn't look back. Jim followed his silhouette until it disappeared into the depths of Pennyworth's car.

Afterwards, he blinked, confused, disoriented by the whole experience. The Beta's sad smell didn't disappear.

He remained in Gordon's nostrils for the rest of the night.

 

 

* * *

**[+] + [+]**


	2. black heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral was uncomfortable, causing an annoying itch under his skin.
> 
> Bruce was a monument of bitterness during the whole ceremony. Jim's nose burned even at the long distance he had chosen along with Bullock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: From 1x01 "Pilot", 1x02 "Selina Kyle, 1x03 "Balloon man", to 1x04 "Arkham."
> 
> Warnings: Emotional infidelity. Underage romance build up.

 

 

 

 

**[+] + [+]**

**1.**

**[+] + [+]**

"  _Black, black heart, I wish you would offer me more."_

-David Usher.

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

The funeral was uncomfortable, causing an annoying itch under his skin.

Bruce was a monument of bitterness during the whole ceremony. Jim's nose burned even at the long distance he had chosen along with Bullock.

Afterwards, Bruce thanked him for solving the case. He offered his hand, and Jim met him halfway. When their hands made contact, Jim vowed to never to do it again, to never cross paths with Wayne, now that the case was closed. He was determined this would be their  _last_ interaction.

Turned out, however, the case wasn't closed. At all.

And Jim had a job to do. One that needed him to fake-kill Penguins to join Gotham's status quo.

The strange force that made them gravitate around each other, brought them back in the main hall of Wayne Manor days after the funeral, Bruce eating biscuits with tea, analyzing every move Jim made from under his curly eyelashes.

"Why were you up on the roof?"

"I was learning to conquer fear."

Nothing that came out of Wayne's mouth was expected. The kid was an enigma. And Jim was sucked right into the mystery. "Fear doesn't need conquering. Fear tells you where the edge is. Fear is a good thing."

"And you think I haven't told him that?"

Jim ignored the butler's interjected comment. He looked right at Bruce's face.

"You came here for a reason, I imagine."

"Yes. Mario Pepper didn't kill your parents." Shock was subtle, but Jim saw it nonetheless. "He was framed by the police department and the mob working together. We killed an innocent man."

"Right. So who did it, then?" Pennyworth again, took the lead of the conversation.

"I don't know."

"I see. Well, sterling work there, then, mate."

Shame run through Jim like an infection. "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Bruce interrupted. "I'm glad he's still alive. I wanna see him again."

That scared the Alfa. He didn't want Wayne anywhere near that kind of murderer. "Bruce, I'm asking you to give me a second chance." Jim offered his badge, setting it down on the table just in front of the boy. It was the only thing he could give to show his honor. "I'm going to find out who killed your parents and why. And I'm gonna clean up the damn police department if I can. But I can only do that from the inside. So I'm asking you to stay silent about what I've told you. Your call."

"Right, well, that's sort of convenient, isn't it?"

"Alfred!" The reprimand shut his tutor right up. Jim winced. After looking it intently for an moment, Bruce gave Gordon back his badge, nodding, and left him there in the studio.

"Thank you." Jim whispered while watching the Beta walk away, feeling stuck in a difficult crossroad.

The crux of the matter was… Jim had principles, a very strong moral compass. So he understood where this need to bring justice for the Waynes came from. However, feeling his instincts taking over his objectivity, wasn't turning out so great. It was becoming a battle to just being near the Beta and keep a clear head.

It would be easy to just let dogs lie like Bullock wanted. Pretend that Mario Pepper was responsible like the rest of the city, to just not having to share space with Wayne again…

But it wasn't the right thing to do.

Jim wasn't that kind of man. He couldn't put his own confort above others. Even if it would be the healthiest decision for him to have an excuse to be at a safe distance from Wayne. Jim had to suck it up and do his job. Nobody else cared enough to do it.

"Don't play with him."

Jim blinked. Pennyworth's accusing look froze him.

Jim jumped from the sofa. "I'm not playing. I meant what I said. I'll do everything in my power to solve this."

"I'm not talking about your heroic deeds, mate. I'm talking about your pheromones going crazy and stinking my living room."

Jim's whole face heated up.

There was no excuse. Only another Alpha could interpret the biological messages of another Alpha. Even if Jim had never been a standard Alfa—too soft, some might say—he was aware  _what_ his body was asking. It wasn't exactly decent. He had no idea what to say. He resorted to extending his arms in despair. "If you have a better idea of what's going on, please enlight me! Because this has never happened to me."

Pennyworth sighed. "Gotta love your timing for these shenanigans."

Jim rubbed his tired eyelids. "You don't have to worry, I'd never—I'm no going to…" He cleared his throat. "Our relationship will be strictly professional."

To his surprise, Pennyworth smiled, looking in the direction Bruce had run to. When he returned with Jim, complicity brightened his expression. "I don't believe that decision depends on you enterialy, Detective."

Jim tensed from head to toe. "I have a fiancé, nothing will happen."

Bruce was a teenager. Bruce was a Beta. He was, quite literally the worst choice in the Compatibility specter for him.

Jim had heard the stories. He knew it wasn't that impossible to find Compatible mates with large age gaps between them. Arrangements could be made between the parents of an Omega and an adult Alpha if necessary. When pairings were compatible earlier than anticipated, a scent Mark was perpetuated between them to solidify the connection. It could be done. It  _had_ been done…

- _What the hell are you thinking?_  Jim had already marked someone else. Jim was someone else's.

"Nothing will happen."

Nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

Before long, Jim was tempted to return to Wayne Manor. And at the invitation of Alfred Pennyworth himself.

"First you tell me to go away, and then you're asking me to the devil's den?"

Alfred rolled his eyes in the middle of the precinct. "The boy respects you."

Jim placed his hands on his hip. He inspected Alfred from head to toe. "For someone who warned me not to toy with the well-being of their protégé, you're playing with fire here, I can't believe you think it's a good idea for me to visit Bruce so constantly."

It was then that Alfred told him what Bruce had been doing behind the scenes. The drawings. The candles. The obsession. The torture Bruce was submitting himself to. Jim had no alternative but to pay him a visit. Their relationship could be complicated, but even so, Jim cared about the young man beyond the professional. He identified with his anger.

"Tea, then?" Alfred pressed, and Jim yielded with no choice. Tea with Bruce. Sure.

Just before heading to the Mansion, Jim decided to stop at the penthouse first.

Although surprised, her beautiful Omega spread her legs in the perfect embrace when her Alpha asked for it. Barbara hid her giggles in Jim's neck, her sweet warmth welcoming him. The dining table creaked beneath them, victim of their passion.

His eyelids falling, he reiterated his possession with kisses raining on her bronzed shoulders.

Afterwards, Jim didn't take a shower.

Barbara's essence was his shield.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

"He's not been sleeping. And when he does, he has these nightmares. Now he's hurting himself. Burning himself. He's cutting."

Jim sighed. It was worse than he'd though. "Is he getting professional help?"

"Oh, you mean psychiatrists? Oh, no, none, he won't have them. No psychiatrists, that's a rule."

Getting up from the couch, Jim put his hands on his hip. "You make the rules, don't you? You're his guardian."

"Now, Bruce's father gave me very firm orders was him and his missus to die. Now I will raise the boy the way his father told me to raise him."

What an interesting set of orders. So the Waynes had been prepare to die? "Which is how?"

"Trust him to choose his own course…" Put on the spot by Jim, Alfred didn't sound that sure of what he was saying. "He is, after all, a Wayne."

The Waynes had got to be kidding him. "Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

Equally lost, Pennyworth smiled at him.

Sighing again, Jim raised his eyebrows. "What do you want me to do?"

"He wants you to talk some sense into me." Bruce himself entered the studio then, looking pretty undignified.

"Haven't I told you to stop creeping up on people like that! It's bloody rude!"

Jim's whole body became a live wire as soon as the Beta came fully into the den. He turned toward the boy to confront him, strings pulling him without consent. "All right then, Bruce. Talk to me."

"I'm perfectly fine. Alfred's a worrywart."

God. A worrywart. Jim snorted. Then, he turned serious. "What'd you do to your hand?" His Alpha voice hardened his tone. Bruce bowed his head lightly at the effect.

"I burned it."

No lies. Good. "Listen to me, Bruce. You've been through a terrible experience." Barbara in the end, didn't help at all, because to Jim, walking closer to Bruce was like second nature. His whole body betrayed him. "Talking to someone can be very helpful."

"You must have seen terrible things in the war, does it-? Does it help you to talk about what you saw?"

Although blindsided by just how throughout the kid had researched his background, Jim didn't back down. "Yes, a little."

Bruce's bright eyes danced. The corners of his lips curled up. "You're not a very good liar."

"Bruce, you're hurting yourself." Jim took a step closer-

-"I'm testing myself!" At the outburst, Jim and Alfred looked at each other. Bruce followed the exchange with disapproval. "Different. But I appreciate your concern." The Beta left Jim standing like fool in the middle of the studio to take a seat in the sofa opposite from where Jim had been seating moments ago.

Munching on a cookie, Wayne waited until Jim went back to his seat. "I've been following your adventures in the newspapers. I feel very sorry for all those poor children."

Still slow on the motion of sitting back down, Jim responded absent minded to the new start of conversation. "Me too."

"I'll give you some money to give to them."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Bruce."

"What way does it work?"

That was the right question to ask. Warm enveloped the Alpha at the sincere concern coming from the boy. He softened his voice, as well as his guard. "Those children need someone who cares for them." Jim then pointed to Alfred. "Like you have right here. Money won't buy that."

Bruce paused to digest the information. "There must be something I can do. What about clothes? They all looked awfully ragged."

The determination left Jim at wonder. Why Wayne couldn't just be another rich brat worried only about himself? It would make everything so much easier. "They did, didn't they?"

Bruce smiled at him until his front teeth showed. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Crap. Jim cleared his throat. "I'll see what can be done."

Bruce asked for more tea. Alfred went back to the kitchen for a fresh pot. Jim rubbed his hands together, uncertain.

"You smell different today."

Jim smirked. "Changed cologne."

"That's not what I mean."

"What way you mean, then?"

Bruce stiffened his spine. "I'm not an expert. But I believe you refer them as… pheromones composition. Am I right?"

Jim's brown twisted. "You're correct. But how—"

"My parents… took extensive care for my studies." Suddenly awkward, the Beta started picking at his bandage. "I find… your world quite fascinating."

"Leave that alone." Jim was up and seating next to Bruce before he truly processed it. "May I?"

At his extended hand, Bruce surrendered his wounded palm to Jim's inspection. He didn't object to it being unbandaged.

Jim's fingertips were delicate upon the red skin in the center of Bruce palm. "You'll survive." The whisper was almost audible, secretive. Bruce fingers closed around the Detective's thumb. They both looked at each other for a long moment.

Bruce closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, making a small content sound. "Ah. There it is."

Jim tightened his own fingers around Bruce's. He couldn't forms words. He had his heart at his throat.

It was a serene sort of revelation. A little heartbreaking, too. Jim haven't expected finding his rightful Compatible One, would be an excruciently experience like this one. He'd been living happily in his land of nativity, thinking that what he had with Barbara was the real thing.

He had been wrong.

"It'll heal in a few days. No scar."

Lulled by the Alfa's dense pheromones, Bruce's head was now leaning on the detective's right shoulder. "I feel like the true scars are inside."

 _-Oh, Bruce._  Jim's arm went around Wayne's back. "The worst ones always are."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

**BALOON MAN KILLS DIRTY COP**

 

"Right. So no breakfast then?"

Bruce kept reading.

"And no dinner last night? What's the new program? You wanna see how long we can go without eating anything? Well, if that's the case, I should save myself the trouble of… making it."

"Have you seen this?" It was better to stop Alfred now, before the rant grew to a full hour lecture. Bruce showed him the newspaper cover.

"Oh, yeah, nuts are going around offing people with balloons. Can think of easier ways to kill someone."

Bruce's eyes came back to the paper. Alfred's voice sounded far away, a siren call that Bruce wanted to mute. "Master Bruce, forgive me for uttering the tired old words  _in times like these_ … But in times like these you really need to keep your strength up."

"I'm just not hungry."

Grumbles erupted from the man.

"Are you going to call Detective Gordon again to force feed me?"

"I don't know. Would you like me to?"

Bruce recognized the challenge when he saw one. He put down the paper. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You both looked quite chubby the last time he was here."

Involuntary responses like a blush, was one of the things Bruce hated about being human. "He-He was inspecting my wound."

Alfred's smirk grew to a full smile. "Right. If that's they're calling it these days."

"Stop looking at me like that."

Alfred put his hand down on the table, being a worrywart again. "Do you? Want me to call him?... Does it help you to see him?"

Bruce swallowed a knot back to this stomach. The intent in Alfred's eyes put him on edge. "James Gordon… has a calming effect on me."

Resigned, the butler started to clean up the abandoned breakfast. "Yep. He's an Alpha and all that. And he cares about you. It's only natural instinct wanting to calm you down from the roof when the occasion arise."

"He smells nice."

One the glasses fell down to the floor. Alfred's eyes went wide.

Bruce pointed to the firecase. "Like burning wood. Warm." And when the Detective's arm had curled around his back, Bruce had felt lighter. Transparent. Unburdened. "I realize it's the effect of James Gordon's pheromones. But when I asked, he didn't elaborate." And when Bruce had rested his head on the man's shoulder, he had awaken hour later on the sofa, covered by a blanket. Alone. The unintentional nap had felt good because there hadn't been any nightmares. He had dreamed only of deep blue eyes. "And now you look just as cagey as him with this conversation."

Now with the silver platter safe in his forearm, Alfred took a pause. A sigh followed. "It's not my place to get into this, Master Bruce. But I know you're a smart boy. You know it's not common that you're sensitive to his physiology… signals."

"But-"

"You know what?" Rising his voice, the man pointed with his chin towards the files near the edge of the desk. "You like being detective so much, research it, boy. Find answers yourself. Your mother had a full section on Compatibility Dynamics. Get on in."

"I have better things to research." His muttered reply got lost in Alfred's swift exit from the studio, however.

Bruce pursued his lips. He re-opened the first file of the pile. The one with his mother's vacant eyes looking at the sky. Most of the report had been filled up by James Gordon's handwriting. His signature was in every page. Bruce just didn't seem to have an escape from the man.

When they'd first met, Bruce had been sure he'd never stop feeling cold.

He passed a hand through his hair, suddenly nauseous. He threw the files to the floor. He run out of the studio, climbing the stairs to Martha Wayne's private library.

Alfred had been right.

His mother had a full collection on Compatibility Dynamics. The glass panels were locked when Bruce tried to open them. He looked around.

The key had been placed neatly in the top of the desk. Alfred and his meddling ways.

Bruce hesitated, his finger above the golden key.

The night they'd first met, Bruce had been sure he'd never stop feeling cold. Then James Gordon had appeared, and the cold had stopped.

Bruce didn't trust him fully. Not yet. Despite his age, Gordon had ideals that Bruce was no longer able to believe. Ideals that had led Thomas Wayne nowhere. Just to being killed in a alley…

 _Alphas: A Genealogy Anthology._ The title jumped at Bruce's attention, once he made up his mind.

Bruce took it out.

He would start with the basics.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

"I need information about the Wayne plan for Arkham."

"Ah, it's the Wayne plan in name only now. When the Waynes died, Falcone stepped in. He's backing the plan now. And he stands to make quite a chunk of change if it passes."

"But Councilman Jenkins was backing Falcone's plan."

"That's right."

"Then he was killed because?"

"Because, Detective… there is an opposing plan."

"Maroni. He's the only one strong enough to oppose Falcone. He's making a play at Arkham.

Bruce stepped out of the hallway, ending his eavesdropping. "Are they related?"

"Bruce." James Gordon looked just as hard edged like the last time they'd seen each other, but with certain softness in his face that by now, Bruce could presume to be for his benefit. "How are you?"

James Gordon, also smelled extremely wrong.  _Again_.

Bruce invited the man to sit down with him, needing immediate answers about what was going on with his parent's legacy. To his surprise, James had brough a box with old reports about the Arkham Project, marked as evidence in red letters. Gordon specifically took out one of the brochures for Bruce to read.

"The new Arkham Asylum will serve the mentally ill of Gotham in ways the present asylum never can. Those poor, sick souls deserve our help." It felt like a slap to read Martha Wayne's heartfelt slogan. He looked up. Gordon's blue eyes hooked with his. "My mother wrote that. She and my father fought for years to get a new asylum built. They thought that if they can help the city's least fortunate it would show there was hope for everyone."

The Detective's grave expression didn't get better. Bruce wanted to shake him.

"I just don't want my parents' dream to die with them."

"I understand that, Bruce. But this isn't just about the asylum. If there is a fight between Falcone and Maroni this could be the spark that ignites a city-wide gang war. Innocents will die. And whatever little faith people have that police can protect them… It will be crushed."

It was time to put the Alpha's sense of justice at test, then. "So you have to stop it."

Gordon's eyes widened.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Now Master Bruce, there are certain things even Detective Gordon can't change."

Gordon's phone started vibrating. The man got up to take the call, sighing as he went. "This is Gordon." There was a brief exchange, and unsurprisingly, the Detective had to leave right after.

He didn't even say proper goodbye.

"Open the windows." Bruce barked, ill humored after the departure. The smell had stayed in the studio. Bruce couldn't stand it.

"Pardon me?"

Growling, Bruce get up himself to open one of the windows. He took a mouthful of fresh aire. At the gates, he could see Gordon's Cadillac leaving the state. "It angers me. That he comes here smelling of something else. Why does he does that?"

"Ah." Bruce turned to him. Alfred was looking at him with pity. "The smell of… someone else, you mean."

Oh. Bruce's mouth tightening. Of course. "He's…"

Alfred came close. He put a hand on his shoulder. "Engaged, last time I heard. That's… what you sense. Must be his Omega's Mark on him."

"But… the books indicated…"

"Reality differs radically from books, Master Wayne." From his shoulder, Alfred's hand migrated to his nape, softly rubbing. "Life is full of complications. We must adapt to survive. You know this very well. We also have to make difficult decisions every day. Jim Gordon… is kinda stuck on that right now. He didn't expect to meet you. He didn't expect… any of this. He already had his life planned out."

"I shouldn't intervene with this plans, then." Compatibility, Bruce had learned, was guided mainly by biology. And biology could be fooled. Bruce's training was proof of this.

"You could do that. If it's what you what." Alfred tone's left much unsaid. Bruce frowned at him. The other Alpha let him go, thought, merely shrugging. "Word of advice. Just talk to the damn man."

The nightmares came back that afternoon, worse that before.

That's how Alfred found him, gasping air on the sofa, surrendered by files. He asked all the trivials questions. Was he all right? Why was he screaming?

"Was I on it?"

Bruce's laugh was a surprise even to him. Both shared a small smile. "Not this time." He asked for the rest of the files they had on the Arkham project. Although worried, the Alpha didn't present obstacles to the request. He brought a bigger box for the attic.

"I see you didn't stop your studies."

Bruce looked up from his browsing. Alfred was holding one the books about Compatibility in the 70's. "It's an interesting subject."

"Mm-hmm."

"There's not much about Alpha/Beta pairings, though."

Alfred sat down on the sofa. "It's rare. You won't found much at this era. Stick to modern volumes. It was only in recent years that scientifics perked up to their existence enough to begin recording studies based on this type of mating."

"I noticed… the stigma in their mentions of Betas. Why is that?"

Alfred shrugged. "It's human nature to fear the unknown. From what I've read and see there's a psychological element to this kind of pairing… more predominant that the rest. I think your mother did some work on it during her projects."

His mother. Bruce was struck by a memory then. Martha taking him to Gotham museum specially for a presentation on Omega Genealogy. " _It's always important to know where you came from, Bruce."_ She had shared quite a bit of her past with him that day.

"I read that once Alphas or Omegas are Marked, it can't be undone. What about my parents, then? They were both Betas. Without Marks, how did they stay together?"

"They loved each other."

Bruce blinked hard, hating the sudden moisture in his eyes. James Gordon must love his fiancé in equal measure. Bruce didn't have any right to get in their way… "Are there pairings that can mate without loving one another?"

"There's… a bit of everything in this world, Master Bruce." Alfred closed the book with a resounding snap. "Don't believe everything you read in books. If Detective Gordon is compatible with you against all incredible odds…" He leaned his forearms on his tights to get in the same level as Bruce, who was on the floor still sorting inside the box. "... aren't you even a little curious about finding out why? It's not normal for you to give up before entering the fight."

Bruce scratched the edge of the carton lid. "I'll think about it."

And he did.

His mind was heavy with it, so much that the next time he had Jim Gordon in his proximity, he couldn't apply his usual discipline to his composure. It was unnerving.

"The mayor's making this new plan sound like it's good for Gotham. But it's not, is it?" On the television, Bruce watched the Mayor keep talking and talking.

From behind, Jim sighed, hands resting at this hip. "No, it's not."

Bruce shut down the television. "Then why's he doing it?"

"He was caught between two very powerful opposing forces—"

"Falcone and Maroni, yes—"

"—Maroni threatened the mayor's life. Out of fear, I'm guessing, the mayor made a compromise and gave Maroni a huge piece of Arkham."

"What piece?"

"Maroni gets to build a waste disposal site. And he gets the contract to refurbish Arkham. Falcone gets to build a low-income housing project…"

Ignited, Bruce exhaled at frustration. He sit down at the couch, fist closing. He felt Detective Gordon sit down with him.

"Look, Bruce. I know it's not the outcome you had hoped for. But this compromise may have prevented a lot of bloodshed. May have even stopped a war."

From anger, Bruce emotional state fell for the worst. Hopelessness. "My parents believed a new asylum would bring hope to Gotham. Now that's gone. Everything they worked for is now falling into the hands of criminals."

"Not everything." James Gordon said softly. He gestured with his eyes at Bruce. "You're alive."

Something inside Bruce  _broke_. Unprepared for the emotional response that brought, Bruce felt like he was seeing the Alpha for the first time. Gordon's blue eyes were firm, gentle. Warm. Bloodshot and tired.

"It's not too late." He went on.

"Do you really believe that?" Bruce whispered, scooting towards the Alpha. "Do you believe Gotham can be saved?"

Gordon was a victim of the same aflection at the moment. Bruce was sure. They couldn't stop the now bare connection; couldn't take off their eyes from each other. "I believe it's worth trying."

Bruce fed from the Alpha's sure tone. From his never ending strength, that by now had made quite the impression on the Beta. No matter how many times the Detective got kicked down, he got up again. Bruce couldn't help by admire his stubbornness. He ended up nodding, lowering his gaze.

The Detective has taken a shower before coming to visit. So when Bruce inhaled, it was  _all_ him. Just him.

"Bruce."

At the groaned mention, Bruce opened his eyes again. "Alfred said we should talk."

Humor showed at Gordon's tired face. "I thought that's what we were doing."

Bruce thought best to go straight to the point. "We're compatible."

The man went from warm familiarity to cold shock. "What?"

"I've been reading—Investigating about." Bruce cleared his throat, embarrassed. Uncomfortable, by the way Gordon was reacting. "Us."

Gordon rubbed his face. "Oh my god." An incredulous laugh came out of him. " _Us_?"

Bruce hugged himself. "I'm just… trying to understand it. I'm sorry it bothers you."

"No, listen—Shit." Another laugh. "Jesus. Give a sec, would you?" True to his word, Gordon seemed more composed after a few moments. "I should've seen this coming. I know you're a pretty smart boy."

Bruce frowned. "I'm not. A little boy."

Gordon raised her eyebrows. "Compared to me?"

"I'm not a child!" Bruce ground out. "If you're that threatened by this conversation, you can go, Detective. Nobody is stopping you." He started to get up—but Gordon's hand latched to his arm.

"Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, Bruce. It's just…"

Bruce sat back down.

The Alpha opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "We are. Compatible." The man rubbed his hands. Nervous. "I don't know what it means."

"It's okay." Bruce tightened his own hand above his knees. "I don't know what it means either. Except…" Bruce licked his lips. Face warm, he decided to be honest. "I know I like you. I like your company. Your visits. I like the way you smell." He's gaze was captured again by the Alpha's, who was looking underwhelmed. "Your eyes. I really like them too."

A tiny smile curved the detective lips. "Yeah?"

Bruce, not capable for more words now that his heart was beating inside his mouth, simply nodded.

"I like you too, Bruce."

It was the Beta's turn to smile.

"What about we just… Take things slow, huh? We got time to figure this out. This is a pretty delicate situation."

"Of course." Bruce moved one hand, guided by instinct. He touched Gordon's to stop the constant rubbing. He just wanted to help. Give back some of the calm the Alpha was always providing. "Like you said, we got time."

 

 

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  **[+] + [+]**

 

**End of Part 1.**

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	3. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon was going into war with the mob, and all Bruce could do was wait for his return. Wait, until the day when Bruce could go to the battlefield with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is located before and after the events of 1x07, "Penguin's Umbrella."
> 
> Warnings:  
> i. THIS CHAPTER IS INTENSE. There is no sex. But even so, it's intense. Which I didn't know was possible.  
> ii. Bruce is Stubborn. He deserves his own warning.  
> iii. Infidelity.  
> iv. Underage romance build up.

**[+] + [+]**

**2.**

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"  _Now, we are two."_

-Batman to Jim Gordon;  _Batman Begins_  .

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

"Renee Montoya and Crispus Allen."

Bruce looked behind James with suspicion. "Pleased to meet you."

When Alfred had dragged him to the living room, Bruce hadn't been certain how to react at first. The confusion onwards was only getting worse.

"Bruce. I promised I would find your parents' killer. I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to keep that promise… It's a long story, but I'm kind of in a tight spot. I've upset some powerful people."

Head spinning with what he was hearing, Bruce sprouted the first thing that passed for his mind. "Stop treating me like a child."

The Detective blinked, mouth hanging open.

"Explain."

"You  _are_ a child. You don't need to know一"

"You expect to die! I'd like to know why. Is it connected to my parents' murder?"

James sighed. "Yes. It's all connected. Somehow… Bruce, I will do my best to work this thing out, but if I don't, Montoya and Allen here will take over your parents' case." He gestured to them. Detective Montoya nodded in Bruce's direction. "I've told them everything I know. You can trust them, 100 percent."

"One hundred percent." Detective Allen promised.

It was happening again. James Gordon was slipping away from him, just like his parents.

His tumult must have been visible on his face. James took a step closer to him, and Bruce followed him, trembling with anger.

"Bruce, these are good detectives. If anyone can find the truth, it's them."

James expected him to accept all this in a stride.  _Be strong_ , his eyes empathized.  _Don't fight me on this_. Bruce looked in Gordon's eyes. Then in his comrades direction. "Thank you." Bruce forced out.

Alfred showed to be just as worried as Bruce. "Sir, what can we do to help you now?"

"Nothing. From here on, I have to go in alone. I don't want anyone else caught up in this."

The conversation over his head gave Bruce a brief moment to recover from the shock. Paragraphs for his prior studies jumped to his mind. - _Think, think. What can I do? I know there's something._

James' gaze passed over Bruce, and what he said next, jump started Bruce into the beginning of a plan. "I have to go."

Alfred remarked what Bruce couldn't. "You can hardly walk."

"I'll be fine." Inhaling deeply, James Gordon raised his right hand. He invited Bruce to accept that crazy gesture too, like that would be enough.

Bruce's eyes washed over the man's broken body.

He only saw  _strength_. A soldier.

 _-Oh_. Bruce blinked, trapped in a Eureka moment. James was a  _soldier_.

He ignored the hand and went straight into James' chest, stretching on his tiptoes with determination. There was a long pause, before the Alpha's reluctance was minimized and the gesture reciprocated.

It wasn't surprising. In one way or another, the Detective always ended up yielding to Bruce's demands, bowing down to his level, so they could interact as equals. There were many people who bowed to Bruce, if not the whole world, but when James Gordon did it, the victory was richer.

Being covered in his embrace—faltering, but firm at the same time—give Bruce some stability.

When he felt the Detective's hand rubbing circles over his shoulder, the Beta curved his side to those fingers, longing for something… still indecipherable. Still elusive.

- _You can't die._  Bruce pressed his face into the man's chest, breathing in antiseptic. - _You can't_.

The inner battle in the Alpha seemed to come to an impasse and Bruce felt it: the pressure of James's cheek on Bruce's dark-haired crown. A deep inhalation. As if he wanted to save the memory for himself, probably imagining this would be the last time they would meet face to face.

Then, Gordon begin to separate. Bruce untangled his arms to a certain point, not letting go completely. As James' fingertips descended down his small back, energy recharged between the two. The atmosphere became heavy.

Mesmerized by the sensation, Bruce raised his face.

Detective Gordon's expressions wore no filters. There were no curtains. Only that horrible  _despair_ , again.

Bruce licked his lips. A decision crystallized in his being.

He rose on the tips of his feet, leaning on the Alpha's chest to reach his destination.

He kissed the other man's cheek, feeling the beginnings of facial hair scraping in his mouth. It was a quick gesture, seemingly harmless, but attached to a more powerful message. A message that changed everything. A decision that broke every invisible line separating them.

He marked James Gordon as  _his own_ , accepting what the Alpha's nature had been asking all this time.

"Now, you'll have to come back." He declared.

For a moment, Gordon's fingers tightened painfully around his wrists, his intentions to slow him down, obvious.

Too late.

Now, James was forced to return alive from his odyssey. Because, according to his research, James' inner Alpha would fight with tooth and nail for survival, the pull to return to his mate not allowing other outcome.

Although, Bruce had been sceptic while reading experimental reports of World War II, the chilling results had stuck with him: Alpha soldiers that had survived, had done it for more than love for their country. In dark times, when every bit of humanity is stripped away, an Alpha would enter Berserk state and returning to their Marked One would be an omnipresent impulse.

Needless to say, Bruce now knew that soldiers could go mad for far more than simple PTSD.

Gordon was not enthusiastic about Bruce's cleverness. Grunting, the man took a giant step back, releasing Bruce's wrists.

"What have you done?"

Bruce lifted his chin in open challenge. "What's necessary."

Bruce heard Alfred's melodramatic sigh. "Hate to say I told ya' so."

"Don't!" Incredulous, Gordon accused Alfred with a stretched finger and nothing more. He seemed to be choking on his own saliva. Behind him, the Detectives collective raised eyebrows spoke of amusement. "You shouldn't encourage him!"

"What do you suggest I do? Locked him up the attic with a chastity belt? This is not my doing, Detective."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I've told you both again and again: I'm not a child."

James' expression was pained. "Bruce. This isn't fair."

Bruce was learning that nothing hardly was fair in this city. "You didn't give me any other choice."

"It wasn't your choice in the first place一"

"It was, the moment you decided to come here!" Bruce's fists wanted to give away to anger, as always. And Gordon was of the same mind. Alfred was smart enough to shepherd the Detectives out of the studio to leave them alone. Gordon walked one long circle around the floor, circling back to Bruce.

"I have a fiancé."

That word again. "Then why are you here?" Bruce moaned. "You've just send the Detectives my way. It wasn't necessary for you to come here to say your very tragic farewell一"

"I had to vouch for them!"

"You think it really matters to me? I  _don't_ want them. It doesn't matter if you trust them, I  _won't_. I was just agreeing for your peace of mind. And you already know that too, you're just fooling yourself into believing everything would work out the way you want so you can go on with your suicide mission."

"Jesus Christ." Jim growled at the empty space, pressing the top of his nose. "Don't hold back on me, Bruce."

Bruce shrugged at the sarcasm, still pretty upset. "Last time you were here you told me we had time. And now you're here telling me…" He let out a bitter laugh. "That's just cruel, don't you think?"

Jim walked closer to him. With a sigh, the man lifter Bruce's chin. "You think this is better? If I die, if I don't come back at all… you'll be mourning three people from now on. I've been trying to avoid this because you don't need the complications, Bruce. You're going through enough as it is."

Bruce thought about it. "I believe in you." He muttered. "I believe in your work, that you're trying to do good in Gotham. And…"

At the pause, Gordon frowned. His voice was just as hoarse. "What?"

"I'm done losing people." Bruce pressed on. He went up on tip toes again, holding on to Gordon's neck.

James stared at him. Bruce didn't back down, feeling his face red and hot. Neither blinked.

"I'm aware that more than a kiss is required to be completely Marked. I know that my experience in Alpha's etiquette may be unsatisfactory right now."

"Could fooled me." James intercepted.

"But for that you'll come back, right? To show me  _how_  to do it properly."

Gordon's whole body shuddered under his hands. Bowing his head, the man brushed his lips over one of Bruce's wrists, tender. With that, it was done. Bruce was now wearing the Alpha's Mark.

With a severe expression, James guided the Beta's hands back to his sides. "If you survive the wait."

Lightheaded, Bruce nodded.

There wasn't other way. It wasn't fair, but it was the reality they lived in. Gordon was going into war with the mob, and all Bruce could do was wait for his return.

Wait, until the day when Bruce could go to the battlefield with him.

 

 

* * *

**[+] + [+]**

"  _I'm too lost in you_  ."

-Sugababes.

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

Everything happened fast and hard. By the time Jim felt the earth stop beneath his feet, Falcone had won, without Jim even coming to play.

He had Barbara, and Jim wouldn't let her get hurt. It was unthinkable.

Bullock didn't stop making tantrums even after being released. Jim let him be, concentrating on Barbara's trembling body as he directed her towards a taxi. Jim felt just like her, but he was better at pushing it all down. He didn't quite understand all the changes that had developed since the attack on the GCPD, let alone foreseen the effects that would befall the city.

Once back at the Penthouse, Barbara hugged him in desperation, apologizing non-stop. Praying for absolution, when ironically, the one who should beg for forgiveness was Jim.

Bruce.

Jim watched the tears spilling down Barbara's face, but all his blood claimed was  _Bruce-Bruce-Bruce_.

That was the worst part. The goddamn guilt.

"I have to go out for a while." Jim muttered hours later, almost at midnight, once Barbara was installed in the bedroom, each light in the penthouse on. He had taken a shower, and changed his formal suit into his old Academy sportswear.

Brief panic flashed in Barbara's eyes when she heard him, but Jim used his Alpha authority to stop any kind of protest. He kissed the crown of the Omega's golden hair in farewell, and with that came the first step into their relationship's ruin.

Everything sweet that Jim had savored from the woman, was gone.

Jim paused the elevator, as soon as he was inside.

He landed his fist against one of the walls. He threw two punches, a moan exploding from his chest.

How had his world gone to shit so fast?

It was already starting. His physiology was no longer responding to Barbara, no matter how much he still loved her.

Taking a deep breath, Jim pressed his forehead on the elevator wall.

- _Get a grip, Gordon._   _You made your choice._

The guts may had come from Bruce, but Jim had been weak in the face of what he really wanted. Assuming that this night would've been his last alive, Jim had wanted to be selfish. Now, it was time to face the consequences.

He hadn't called ahead, but Alfred was quick to open the door by the time Jim staggered to his doorstep.

"Ah, be careful, Detective, I'll start thinking you're a superhero if you keep challenging the odds against you."

Jim didn't hide his pout. "I don't feel like a superhero, Alfred."

"Nor you smell like one." Alfred helped him into the hall, both tired. "It's almost three in the morning."

Jim didn't apologize. He was too nervous. "He still awake?"

Alfred had the gall to look at Jim with pity. "Waiting for news in his room. Third room to the left."

Jim nodded. "You could tell him I'm fine."

"Oh, no, don't even think about it." Alfred's tongue was as quick and concise as a whip, blocking the exit to Jim with one arm. "You two made your bed, now lie on it." A grimace twisted the man's face. "Um, poor choice of words."

"Very poor." Jim shook his head, embarrassed. "But, I know what you mean." He started his way to the stairs to the second floor, but when he stepped on the railing, Jim paused. "You should go to bed, I'll take care of him."

"Yes. I imagine you will."

To his own surprise, Jim ended up releasing a soft laugh at the unseemly comment.

Alfred smiled in mischievous reciprocation. "He's just a teenager, Gordon. Really, there's nothing to be afraid of."

Jim nodded again. He returned to his task of climbing the stairs. Both were lying, well aware that Bruce was not an ordinary teenager. But Alfred's intentions were good, and Jim appreciated his attempts to reassure him. Both had started on such bad terms that it was impressive to see how far they had come. For both men being Alphas, they had adjusted pretty well.

The curiosity to know if the same would've happened with Thomas Wayne, awoke briefly in his mind. Jim didn't even know if the man had been Alpha or another Beta like Bruce, because the files of the Wayne family were  _fucking_ hermetic.

Jim admitted he would have liked to meet the man. Although, the circumstances surely would have been very different…

The bedroom door was open a fraction, probably for Alfred's benefit. By the time Jim poked his head in, it was clear that Bruce was drawing maniacally again. Only now on the floor near his bed, headphones spilling sound on high volume. Jim didn't bother to knock. He entered the room, closing the door behind him.

It was a  _huge_  bedroom. And it had the gloomy touch that only Bruce could be able to add.

The movement in his periphery must have betrayed Gordon's presence. Bruce turned his disheveled head and his eyes got bigger as soon as he recognized Jim standing not far from him. In a single jump, the boy got up from the carpeted floor. He wore wool pajamas, probably more expensive than the rent of Barbara's Penthouse, along with black socks. He looked his age. He looked innocent. Breakable.

 _-Wrong_. Jim momentarily closed his eyes. - _Bruce is anything but breakable._

Bruce was removing his headphones by the time Jim walked deeper into the bedroom. It was a surprise the boy still hadn't jumped all over him.

Jim smiled. He extended his arms. "I'm alive."

Bruce looked at him from head to toe, checking with his own two eyes. He still didn't move.

He was waiting for directions, Jim realized. He was waiting for what his Alpha would ask of him.

Out of breath, Jim twisted his feet together, awkwardly trying to take off one Nike with the other. "It's late, Bruce, you shouldn't be up."

"Could you sleep, if you were in my place?"

There went one Nike off. "I usually enjoy your contradictory personality but  _not_  tonight."

It was Bruce's turn to smile. "Do you really?"

"Mmm?"

"Enjoy my contradictory personality?"

Jim shrugged. "Sue me, unlike any other Alfa in the city, I do prefer to hang out with people that have a will of their own."

Bruce lowered his attention to Jim's feet. "You're going to fall."

"Nah, I have enough practice." Despite the lethargic state that began to invade him, Jim managed to get rid of the remaining Nike. He stretched his toes. His socks were cheap cotton, gray and thick. And probably three times warmer than Bruce's. "See?"

Bruce wasn't that easily distracted. The affable curve remained on his lips, but confusion gave way to a darker subject. "What happened?"

Jim placed a finger in his mouth, in a motion of silence. "Not tonight." If it depended on him, Bruce would never know. "Get in bed, please."

If his horse tone sounded like a command, Jim couldn't care less. His senses were narrowing down on the Beta. There was no going back.

From day one, Jim had been fighting this moment. He was beyond tired. And Jim wasn't a saint, he had reached his goddamn limit.

His hoodie was discarded, thrown into the desk chair, knocking out drawings in the process. His loose pants remained in place, just as his white wife beater .

Bruce had opened the big pile of luxurious sheets while Jim had been kicking the Nikes near the door. When he marched back to the opposite side of the bed, they both looked at each other.

Jim pointed toward the bed with his chin. Bruce swallowed hard, before obeying, his knees climbing the bed. "You scared of me, Bruce?"

"No!" Bruce turned to him, one hand stuck in the mattress for support. "I know you won't hurt me."

Jim snorted, his teeth biting his lower lip until he felt pain. "I don't want to do it, you know? I'll never try to hurt you intentionally, Bruce. You have to know."

Bruce nodded.

Jim sighed. It was his turn to lay down. "But, most likely, I'll end up doing it one way or another." His leg burned in protest, but Jim endured it. "In my line of work, the risk of me dying on you will be something you'll have to deal with everyday. If tonight was hard for you..."

"I understand." Bruce was leaning on his right elbow. He didn't expect it when Jim jumped over him, covering him completely in a single leap from across the bed. The boy gasped, but he threw his head back slowly, descending to the beat of Jim's body to the mattress.

Jim's arms looked monstrous when they surrounded Bruce. His knees went around the slender hips at his disposal, and Bruce remained still. Incredibly, their bodies still didn't make total contact.

"I need to print my scent on you." He whispered, nose to nose. "It may be uncomfortable, but I have to do it. It'll calm you down. It'll calm both of us down."

"Tell me what I have to do."

Jim closed his eyes. He swallowed. "Lay your head back."

Bruce's head fell to the pillows, exposing his neck. The skin had almost imperceptible moles. He was tense, contrary to the previous suggestion. Jim couldn't blame him.

Jim's nose brushed against the corner of bone and thundering palpitations. Bruce's neck was so small, that only half his face could find room. James pressed his lips shut, not wanting to take risks with the intensity of the moment. For the same reasons, he kept his hips away and separated from the ritual. His nose had to do all the work and nothing else.

At the feel of his unshaven chin, Bruce generated a tiny sound.

Jim paved his way over the foreign skin. He inhaled the fragrance of apricots, rubbing nostrils against Bruce's neck. He was so subdued in action, that when Bruce articulated a shaky question, it was hard for him to understand.

"Can I touch you?"

Jim carved a path from his neck to the soft angle of Bruce's cheek. "Waist up only."

Instantly, the boy's hands were anchored to Gordon's biceps, like his life depended on it.

"You smell… You smell so good. Is that normal?"

"Yeah." The Alpha in him growled, now fidgeting with a tender lobe. "Pheromones."

Bruce's dark lashes had also fallen, his own nose curving toward Jim's. The two met, sharing an Eskimo kiss. Jim smiled, not expecting some manifestation of tenderness mixed at this point.

Minutes ticked by. Both panted, experimenting their pheromones evolving, molecules battling, morphing, taking new identity.

"I wantーI want to mark you too."

God. Jim's arms nearly buckled. "Won't be the same, you're not an Omega."

"I don't care."

"It won't last, your pheromones aren't very strong一you're still very young."

Bruce parted his face from James' clavicule, having the nerve to challenge him. "I  _don't_ care."

Jim wasn't in any position to object, high on hormones. Bruce could ask him to rob a bank, and Jim swears he would do it. "Just… do what I do, then."

Bruce's dilated eyes came down to James' lips, staring at them. It was something quick, a movement that lasted only two seconds, but that made Jim freeze in panic.

"My neck, go to my neck." He offered urgently, insisting with a hand holding the boy's neck to safe territory. To his relief, Bruce curled up right into Jim's chest. "Yes, just like that, rub your nose against me."

Bruce did it. He imitated catlike scrubs, strands of hair tickling. Jim made fists of his knuckles, the pillows suffering for it.

Shit.

With Barbara, their pheromones exchange had never felt this way.

Bruce might not be an Omega, but that had many advantages. Barbara would've already been reduced to moans and sharp scratches all over Jim's back, her body melted on the mattress, passive in receiving pleasure. Bruce's self control was a surprise, since the control had always belonged to Jim.

He hummed with approval when he felt Bruce's hands grasp his bare arms, exploring. He purred with permission as he accepted Bruce's exploring fingers to touch his head, analyzing the texture of his hair.

That night Jim Gordon was somewhat ruined.

"That's enough." Jim whispered, pulling back. Bruce's reddened face held longing. Desire so premature that even Bruce himself didn't understand its full meaning yet.

Unsurprising, Bruce didn't look convinced, but nodded. Jim took his wrists to remove them from his body, his thumbs comforting them with soft caresses. With great care, Jim rotated to the other side of the bed, turning his back on the boy.

"Are you leaving?" The frightened question had Bruce rising from his spot.

Jim looked down at his lap, hiding it from the boy's sight. "Lie down. I'll just go to the bathroom for a sec."

"Oh." And it was funny how the boy dropped again like a stone. "Second door on the right, it has a lion-shaped latch."

A tired smile lifted Jim's lips. Even the doors had ego in this place. "Try to sleep, I'll be back soon, okay?"

And taking a cushion to hide his uncomfortable biological response, James made his escape.

- _Completely ruined_. Jim repeated himself ten minutes later, in front of the bathroom mirror, his fist drawing a satisfactory moan from his throat.

With Bruce completely  _stored_ in his senses it didn't take long. Jim whimpered his ecstasy all the way to its end.

When he returned, Bruce was dead to the world, finally giving in to the demands of his body. Jim took charge of tucking him in and turning off the lights. He settled on his side.

Sleep didn't come easily.

It was possible that Barbara could be waiting for him, the PTSD preventing her from resting. Most likely, though, was that she had already drunk down some valium with scotch by now. Barbara didn't like to deal with the hard stuff. She preferred denial.

Jim closed his eyes in the darkness, waiting for the shame to bring him down.

It never quite arrived.

 

* * *

**[+] + [+]**

**End of Part 2.**

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* * *

**Notes:**  (submerges in cold water along with Jim).


End file.
